


musing of a lion

by shewritesrandomscribbles



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Jonerys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 11:04:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20599721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewritesrandomscribbles/pseuds/shewritesrandomscribbles
Summary: Half a decade after a certain dragon's death, a lone lion reflects.





	musing of a lion

**Author's Note:**

> I had no intention of writing another fic. As I have mentioned, I just needed to write "Let's go home" because I was looking for an outlet since I was still angry about the finale. I also did not intend to write from Tyrion's POV but this just popped into my head and I had to write it down, so here we are.  
(This is not Stark or Winterfell-friendly, sorry.)

_Ask me again in ten years._

That was what he said. His own voice echoing through his head, tainted with the memory of a disheveled young man in a cell and a fallen dragon queen. _His Dragon Queen._

Not 10 years have passed since that dreadful day_, gods, just half a decade_ and still, here he is, already second-guessing everything that had led them to that ghastly cessation.

The last five years were quite a blur. _He blames the wine. _Each council meeting, he had observed The King growing more and more distant. His eyes, if not staring blankly at them, were often the same eerie white—suggesting he is someplace else. He would come and go as he pleases, merely listening to every update there is to know about the seven, _no, six_, kingdoms. Bronn has been proven useless time and time again, funding brothels after brothels all throughout the city. Ser Brienne and Ser Davos have been helpful at least, but even they cannot solve the problems piling up under the King’s reign. Nothing seemed to change much in the realm. The crown is still indebted. They needed more gold than he can acquire. The United cities of Essos, with a new ruler, want to stop their trades if the debts remain unpaid. The Iron Bank is refusing to grant them another loan saying Westeros is in deep murky waters now, and they have no intention of drowning with them.

He heard the North is still struggling to provide and maintain food supply as well as shelter to their now independent kingdom. _So much for being independent. _They can barely feed themselves. There were more talks of uprising with each passing moon. Iron Islands and Dorne, as expected, both are vying for their own independence. Yara Greyjoy is still asserting the independence Daenerys gave them, refusing to bend to any other rulers. Dorne still hates the Lannisters, that much is evident since the years before. _Now that a Lannister advises the King once again, why would I expect their submission?_

These days, he finds himself drinking more than he used to, if that is at all possible. He was tired and getting old, maybe being the Hand to a King who is nearly there is just as frustrating as serving a mad queen.

_Mad Queen. _He pondered. She isn’t mad, not in the way they all implied she was. The Mad King imagined enemies when there aren’t any, betrayal when there isn’t basis. Daenerys, on the other hand have been right about her fears. She was right about the implication of people knowing Jon’s parentage. She was right about Sansa betraying her brother’s trust and telling his secret. She was right not to trust him and Varys. Weren’t they planning on giving Jon the throne the moment they found out about his true identity? Seven hells, Varys tried to poison her. He was an old friend but he got what he deserved in the end. She wasn’t by any definition mad, her fears were not a product of her imagination, they were real. The enemies out to get her the moment the truth came out was real. For the most part, the only thing she may not have anticipated is him using Jon Snow to end her life. He knew and saw the regret after what he had done. It doesn’t take a maester or a god to see that Jon Snow had nothing else to live for after piercing that dagger through her heart. The poor man would be haunted by her memory all through his remaining miserable life, just as much as it haunts Tyrion himself.

When all the dust had settled and he let his thoughts consume him, he knew she wasn’t mad. She was angry and hurt. She was betrayed and she was— just as for the most part of her entire life— alone and lonely.

_She saw her friend beheaded! She saw her dragon shot out of the sky!_

Jon Snow’s words of reason came to haunt him. Only a fool would deny the love that transpired between that young man and his queen. _The gods are indeed cruel._ He expected as much, for all her flaws and that dragon temper she has, Daenerys was the most beautiful women he had ever laid his eyes upon. She was ethereal. _The stories did not lie about the Targaryen genes._ Still, it wasn’t just her regal beauty that had beheld them both – and many men before them– he knew. Behind the queenly posture and cold façade, his Dragon Queen was kind and gentle, a bit impulsive at times but just as compassionate. He saw it when she was in Meeren, he witnessed how the people have loved her. And he knows from their account of stories just how fiercely she had protected her people from any threat or harm that may befall them. She was a loving mother and her dragons have loved her as much in return. _She would’ve been a good mother if she ever had a babe._ In another life, he could’ve been an advisor to her heirs, watching little princes and princesses grow up. He brushed those thoughts away. It does not do anyone any good to dwell on the past and what could have been. 

Jon Snow was right. 5 years after her death, he knew it wasn’t right. _We royally fucked up, that is._ Daenerys was hurting and she lashed out. Wasn’t it the same thing he felt when he sent that arrow through his father’s heart? Wasn’t the sting of betrayal the same he felt when he saw Shae on his Father’s chambers? Wasn’t the same rage burned within him when he took her life with his own hands?

_I wasn’t that different from her, _he thought. He didn’t burn down an entire city though, didn’t burn innocent women and children. _You did not have a dragon, _his own head contradicting him, betraying his own words of defense. _You would have done the same or worse if you had a dragon. Anyone of you would have. _Maybe.

He walks through the debris of what once was the Throne room, looking at the melted iron. _All of that for this awful-looking chair. _Once he had thought of how different it would have been had they decided to choose and counsel more wisely. If they had the time to talk it through, things would have been a far cry from what befall them. Against his strong restraint, he let himself wonder about the things she said she would do—break the wheel and all that.

_The Seven Kingdoms need someone stronger than Tommen but gentler than Stannis. A monarch who could intimidate the High Lords and inspire the people. A ruler loved by millions, with a powerful army, and the right family name._

She was all that during her time in Meeren. Mayhaps, Westeros was evil, and the Northern people were just as cold as their climate for rejecting her after she aided them_._

_Who said anything about a "him"? _

Now here they are, back at another _him _as a ruler; a King who only says a few words and disappear for however long he pleases. The King shits and The Hand wipes indeed. He briefly wonders what Varys would say now if he was here.

In the end, everything was for naught. He knew the role he had played on this bloody realm’s downfall. Had he advise her more efficiently, they would be under the rule of not one but two Targaryens. That Onion Night, Ser Davos had been right, maybe marrying them off would have solved everything then, or maybe not; now they’ll never know. Perhaps even the gods were afraid of how much power two Targaryens ruling side by side can bestow. Perhaps they too were afraid the people would love them both more than they do their gods. Or perhaps the gods wanted them for themselves, seeing how horribly those two have been treated all throughout their short lives.

Walking back to his own chambers, he knew sleep wouldn’t come easy. It hasn’t been for 5 years now. On those nights, just like now, he would drink himself to sleep, just enough to numb everything else.

He moved to pour himself another glass of wine but discovered he had emptied the entire bottle. _I need more wine. _He needed to dull his senses. Remembering just shoots a sharp pain within his chest. He plucked something from his pocket and stare at it for a while. Whenever he thinks of her, this has become a habit. He had found it days after Drogon carried her off. It was right where he had tossed it back to her during their last conversation, the last one they’ll ever have as it turned out.

He closed his eyes, her voice still echoes in his mind, as clear as the day she stood before him as he had sworn himself to her. 

_"Tyrion Lannister, I name you Hand of the Queen."_

He swallow a lump in his throat while looking at the silver brooch, he remembers her silver braids and her warm smile. With a pang of longing and regret, the Hand of the Queen pin weighed heavily on his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Confession hour: I really liked Tyrion during the early seasons of GoT. His relationship (purely platonic, of course) with Dany and how they both grew to admire and respect one another has been a delight to watch.I want to believe that he will come to regret his action in time as I wrote this as such. I hated how season 8 handled their friendship and how Tyrion rarely stood up for Dany. Had they believed in her just a bit more, she wouldn't have felt all alone. :(
> 
> Once again, I have no notion of whether I will continue writing new fics but I want to thank everyone who left kudos and comments here and on my first work. Still, I am new to this so don't expect too much, sorry if it isn't good enough.


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